


Drastic

by heartswells



Series: Micro-Story Prompts [5]
Category: Cancer Crew, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcoholism, Eating Disorders, Mental Illness, Prompt: Accosted, Substance Abuse, Toxicity, treatment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 10:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16638461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartswells/pseuds/heartswells
Summary: “It's not a fucking problem,” he shrieked again as if repetition could force it to become true.





	Drastic

**Author's Note:**

> this is a repost I tore down when I had a breakdown a few months ago. a rant fic that I never want to reread again. do with it what you will.

“Max, you _need_ to go to treatment. You can't stay this way.”

 

Terror ruptured behind his eyes, and suddenly Max understood how fear became rage. Joji’s words were injected into his body like potassium chloride, excruciatingly searing through his veins and racing straight to his heart. It was agony; it was abandonment. It was Joji screaming _I don’t love you anymore._

 

“Call, please, Max. At least do the assessment.” His begging was borne of fear and love, but he could see in Max's eyes that he felt only betrayal and animosity, that he could not see the care Joji was compelled by.

 

“It’s not a fucking _problem_ ,” he snarled. He became feral, panic turning him savage; Joji’s words were a brutal threat to his life—no, a threat to the life of the disorder he _believed_ kept him alive.

 

“Max, you don’t even hide it anymore.” Joji’s voice was hardening, resistant to Max’s sick games.

 

“It's not a fucking problem,” he shrieked again as if repetition could force it to become true.

 

“Yes, it fucking _is_ , Max, and everyone can see it.”

 

It was infuriating, and it was heartbreaking, and Joji could find no remedy between those two feelings. He was helplessly watching as Max decayed. He was watching Max's eyes turn lightless and reflectionless. He was watching the cracks on Max's knuckles split open as he trembled with exhaustion. He was watching Max run the shower after each meal and fall asleep in the same clothes as before. He was watching Max recoil at his touches with repulsion and turn away from vomit-scented kisses. He was watching him lie with a weak voice, defensive yet defenseless.

 

He was watching him die.

 

“ _Fuck off._ ”

 

“Max, I just want you to fucking be _okay_. You're sick. I'll help you, Max, and _fuck_ , Ian and Chad will too. You've just got to let us, Max. You can't stay like this. This is fucking drastic, Max. You'll fucking _die._ ”

 

 _“You're wrong,”_ he shrieked.

 

  
  
  



End file.
